


It's Just Polyester

by FlyingShoes135



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Don't Judge Me, F/M, House Party, Hurt No Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I also never finished Voltron so, M/M, One-Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Oneshot, Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Spin the Bottle, Teen Angst, Written In One Hour, canon ending, i wrote this at 4 am, mediocre, so it's just sad sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25399552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingShoes135/pseuds/FlyingShoes135
Summary: Keith pines for his friend, and sits in the corner of every dumb high school party watching Lance. But Lance only has eyes for Allura.This polyester sweatshirt is not a convincing substitute for Lance no matter how good it smells, because now Keith knows what it feels like when Lance presses his lips against Keith's.A.K.A. a hella depressing and angsty Keith at a party simping for Lance during spin-the-bottle.Title based on Conan Gray's Heather bc that's the emo ass song I was listening to while I wrote this.
Relationships: Allura/Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	It's Just Polyester

**Author's Note:**

> I never actually finished watching Voltron, but this is an AU based on the canon ending, and honestly it's just a big crappy angst piece because my brain won't shut up even though I have work in a few hours.  
> Idek how active the Voltron fandom is on AO3 anymore, but here's a shitty oneshot I wrote at 4 am riding on the high of listening to sad love songs when I've never even had a crush let alone fallen in love except for my best friend 4 years ago who we both confessed to each other a year apart and never did anything about it either time also because she stopped liking me and started going for old men haha but she was pretty and charming and funny and had such an amazing personality and anyway maybe I stole her habit of flirting with everyone I meet and thus confusing everyone and sending mixed signals but whATEVER.  
> Anyway, again, the title is based on Heather by Conan Gray, so I blame him for this stupid fic.

Colored lights spun across a violet room, sweaty bodies brushing up and grinding down against each other in the dark. A room warmed by the pulsing energy of teenage hormones in the dead of winter. 

Keith sat on a dingy green couch, knees bent up to his chest, looking down at the drink in his hands and inhaling the burning scent of whatever alcoholic concoction swilled within. It smelled of light-headedness and scratchy throats, but that was better than suffocating in the musky smell of his peers. With nothing else to do, he checked his phone. No new notifications, but it was 11:59 pm, the third of December. He had already been here for nearly two hours.

“Keeeeeith, heyy,” Lance grinned, stumbling his way through the crowd and falling into the couch beside him. “What are you doing all alone? Come out of the corner, it’s a party, find someone and dAance!”

Frowning, Keith turned to face Lance, pretending as though his eyes hadn’t been locked on him this whole time. That the only person he wanted to dance with wasn’t Lance. 

Then suddenly Lance was close. Too close. Until their faces were mere inches apart. 

Keith scooted back in his seat. “Nothing, I’m just cold.” 

“Cold, at a party?” Lance frowned at him, pulling his sweater up over his head. “Don’t be cold.” 

Lance’s flat skinny-boy abs flashed across Keith’s field of vision, and he averted his eyes a second too late.

“Hey, c’mere,” Lance murmured, as he pivoted to shove the sweater down onto Keith’s shoulders. 

“I’ll give it back to you at school on Monday,” Keith blurted.

Lance stared into Keith’s eyes for an uncomfortably long time. “Keep it. It looks better on you than it does on me.”

“I can’t-”

“It’s just polyester.” Lance’s serious expression became a drunken giggle. “Haha, your mullet looks funny now, all sticky-outy.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Keith shot back, patting down the back of his neck self-consciously.

“It looks good on me! Give it a few months, and we’ll be matching, too.”

“Copycat,” Keith muttered, trying not to give away the way his heart ached at the thought.

“Mullet head.” 

An unfamiliar voice cut in. “Lance, hey, we’re playing spin-the-bottle!” 

Lance’s eyes lit up. “Oh, oh, oh! Please, come on Keith, you know I love spin-the-bottle!”

“You know I hate spin-the-bottle.”

“Enough of your emo high school bullshit, do it for me, Keith. Pretty pleeeeeease?” Lance lunged forward and grabbed Keith around the middle, making puppy eyes at him.

Keith reluctantly closed his eyes, because the sight of Lance’s begging face, hands gripping Keith’s waist. “Alright, fine,” he said.  _ For you _ , he thought, prying at Lance’s bony arms.  _ Only for you _ . 

Lance straightened up immediately, pulling away from the hug so fast it gave Keith whiplash. “We’re coming, Nyma! Don’t start without me, I want to go first!”

-o-0-o-

_ How do I get myself into these situations? _ Keith opened his eyes to stare down fate. And by fate, he meant the the glass neck of a cheap— empty— beer bottle. And looked over at the owner of the knee touching his. 

Lance was grinning stupidly, barely hanging off the edge of sobriety. “Pucker up, buttercup.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut. It was all too much. Too much noise, too much pressure. Too many eyes, too much liquor. This wasn’t supposed to be how it goes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.They were supposed to be in love. But right now, only Keith is head-over-heels. Only Keith felt heady in Lance’s presence. Lance was dizzy from the bubbles fizzing from the bottom of his red solo cup. Keith was inebriated in a different way.

But Keith had never been known for his impulse-control. And he really did want to kiss Lance. More than anything else in the moment, maybe even anything else ever.

So he leaned forward, eyes tightly shut as their lips mashing together, pretending that this wasn’t adding to the end of the long list of kisses Lance had shared with people. Pretending that this actually meant something. That this wasn’t Keith’s first kiss. That Lance’s fingers weren’t brushing his cheekbones. That Keith’s hands weren’t balled tightly at his sides. That Lance’s eyes weren’t wide open. . And that there wasn’t the background sound of whooping teens. That Keith wasn’t wrenching his heart out of his rib cage and leaving it to tumble out of Lance’s oblivious lap every time Lance stood up and walked away from him.

Like he did now.

Lance had caught sight of Allura walking by, and he, of course, followed. Stood up, away from the cheering circle. Away from Keith. 

Keith, whose eyes followed the swaying satin of her dress. A dress that matched her eyes that were the color of a bright blue sky.  _ I’m not even half as pretty.  _ Keith thought, staring down at his hands and thinking of his dark boring eyes and his dark stupid hair. Prying his eyes away, he stopped straining his neck and scooted away from the circle as well. Back to the corner of the house, tucked up against the armrest of the couch that looked as worn out as Keith’s emotions.

Keith picked up a random cup and tipped it back until he could see the recycling symbol stamped into the thin plastic. He pretended he didn’t see flashes of skin in the dark.

They were perfect for each other. Matched in their striking eyes and browned skin. Lance was funny, charming, humble, and much smarter than he let on. Allura was gorgeous, intelligent, witty, and ambitious. She complimented Lance in every way.  _ How could I hate her? _ Keith thought.  _ She’s such an angel _ . He wished she were dead. But it wouldn’t matter because Lance would still be mesmerized by her beauty, would still be crazy about her even if she wasn’t perfect. And if not her, some other girl. And Keith would still be here, curled up on the couch watching in envy, pathetically clinging to Lance’s polyester sweater.

Except this time, instead of imagining the sensation of Lance’s lips on his, Keith could still smell the fruity concoction that had laced Lance’s breath. Now Keith knew how Lance kissed. Now Keith knew how Lance tasted. And now he knew that he liked it. That he was crazy about it. He was crazy about Lance. He liked Lance so much, it felt like he was dying.  _ But you like her better _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> Btw, if you couldn't tell, PDA and general romantic/sexual stuff makes me feel squeamish to write about or think about in depth, so it's chill on that ahaha. Thanks for reading this if you did. Have an unhappy ending lol.


End file.
